Dark and Deep
by ifonly13
Summary: 'The water is dark and deep inside this mother's heart.' - Celtic Woman :: A 'Coffee Shop' companion
1. Chapter 1

_**Dark and Deep**_

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><p><em><strong>Week 9<strong>_

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><p>She can do this.<p>

It's one doctor's appointment. One little check-up with OB-GYN should be nothing.

But it feels like something.

Kate had spent the morning curled up on the floor of her bathroom, too exhausted and sick to move from the cool tile and get dressed. She hadn't even managed to eat anything that morning, dry-heaving instead.

Nine weeks along and she was already tired of being pregnant.

"Kate Beckett?"

She looks up, sees the nurse in the doorway scanning the waiting room. Kate gets up, following the nurse back down a hallway into an empty room. "Doctor Sherwood will be right with you," the young lady says, closing the door behind her.

Kate paces, nervous energy zipping through her. "What's going on, baby?" she asks, tipping her head down to regard her stomach.

Doctor Sherwood is a sweet woman, grey hair piled up into a messy, braided bun on her head with pretty earrings swinging from her ears. She chats with Kate while running through the checklist about reality television and the Yankees and the annoyance of those political ads running already even though the election isn't until November.

"Okay, Kate," Sherwood says, putting the clipboard down and getting up. "We should be able to hear baby's heartbeat at this time. Want to test it out?"

Kate shrugs, trying on a smile. "Sure."

The wand that Sherwood wields looks like a hand-held metal detector, the type Kate has seen at airports or baseball games. Except when the doctor waved this one over Kate's stomach, it didn't beep.

Instead, there was a quiet thumping in the room.

Kate gasps, sitting up on the table too quickly, her head spinning from the motion. "Is that…?"

"Awww…" says Sherwood, tilting her head to the side as she tries to find a stronger heartbeat. "Baby says hello. Sounds nice and strong."

Kate doesn't hear the rest of Sherwood's babble – something about another appointment in a few weeks to check in – but she does manage to wave at the doctor as she leaves, the room empty again.

"Hey, baby," Kate whispers, running a hand over her flat stomach. "Hello."

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><p>March is freezing. The news reporter that morning, dressed in green for the St. Patrick's Day parade, informed her as she got dressed that they could be breaking a record for the coldest day in the city since who-knew-when. All that told Kate was that she needed to add a scarf to her outfit for the day to ward off the chill.<p>

The morning had begun the same way every morning had started for the past two weeks: make toast, smear a little bit of strawberry jam over the surface, pour a glass of water, and pray that it all stayed down. It hadn't, of course, and she had found herself on the cool tile of her bathroom once again.

So, running on barely enough sleep, Kate dresses in jeans, her mom's old fisherman's sweater, and a deep green scarf as a nod to St. Patrick and slips on a pair of sneakers before rushing out of the apartment.

Pretty much every NYPD officer was on-duty or on-call for St. Patrick's Day. People got rowdy during any parade but the mixture of alcohol with the excitement always lead to arrests. She parks her car as close to Bryant Park as she can, locking it and tucking the keys into her pocket.

"Hey Beckett!" Ryan calls, waving her over to the bench where a bunch of detectives are hanging out, waiting for assignments. She walks over slowly, slipping her hands into the gloves she grabbed from the center console. "Happy St. Paddy's Day!"

Kate takes in the little shamrock pin on her co-worker's lapel with a shake of her head. "Back atcha, Ryan."

"Listen," he says, tugging on Kate's sweater sleeve away from the detectives around them when he sees her nose wrinkle at the smell of their breakfast sandwiches. "I've asked that they keep us together." Her brow arches and Ryan is quick to hold his hands up between them. "Just… I know you want to keep… Well, I wasn't sure you wanted everyone to know about…"

She puts him out of his misery, smiling and nodding. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"No problem. Plus, it'll be nice to have someone you know to talk to. You know, between arresting drunk assholes."

He says it so cheerful that Kate has to grin. The Irishman knows how to set people at ease, she admits. "Well let's go find out exactly where we're deployed to."

Ten minutes later, she's leaning against the brick façade of a building a few blocks from MoMA, huddling against the crisp breeze tunneling down Fifth Avenue. Her stomach is rolling with the scent of bangers and mash, still unsettled from the morning spent on the bathroom floor. She has a hand pressed to her face, trying to breathe in the comforting smell of the leather of her glove rather than the grease of the traditional Irish food.

It's not working.

But she needs to focus on the crowd, not her rebelling body, so she tries to push it to the back of her mind.

"Happy St. Paddy's Day, Officer!" she hears moments before a stranger, the whiff of beer on his breath washing over her, throws his arm over her shoulders and pulls her against his side. "Erin goooo…"

Kate ducks from under his embrace, grabs the offending arm, twists it behind him, and slams him against the brick wall.

The man whimpers, "Come on, Officer! Cut me some slack. It's St. Paddy's Day."

She doesn't listen, not in the mood to play mediator. Instead, she finds her handcuffs on her belt and snugs them around the man's wrists. "Sorry, bud," she says with snap in her tone. "Picked the wrong detective to snuggle with today."

Ryan had moved closer, watching carefully. "Want me to take him?" he asks.

Kate starts to shake her head, begins to tell the other man that she has him, but then a vendor with a sausage cart walks by and she feels her stomach twist. "All yours," she manages, staying there long enough to make sure Ryan has a hold on the drunk before she turns and runs.

She finds the first restaurant that isn't packed with people looking for beer and pushes her way past the patrons to the back. One of the waiters steps in front of her and she does the only thing she can think of – she flashes her badge at him and he moves. Kate locks the door to the bathroom behind her and loses the toast and water from breakfast.

Slumping to sit on the ground, not caring really that it's not the most sanitary of locations, Kate runs a hand through her hair. The doctor said another few days and the morning sickness, the urge to throw up at the smell of anything would be gone. She prays that her OB-GYN is right because yesterday was the second time she had nearly fallen asleep at her desk from the lack of breakfast and while everyone at work knew about her little accident, she didn't need it affecting her job so dramatically.

Kate takes her phone from her pocket, opening up a text message to send off to Lanie.

_Need a day. Cover for me?_

She waits until her friend texts back with the affirmative before she puts the phone away again. With a sigh, Kate pokes the still-flat plane of her stomach gently. "Hey, baby. Enough of this," she whispers.

She's shaky when she gets to her feet, cups her hand under the water faucet in the bathroom to wash her mouth out. Kate leaves the restaurant calmer than when she entered, smiling a little at the hostess before going to find Ryan.

"You okay?" he asks quietly. As quietly as possible with the din of parade-goers around them.

Kate starts out nodding but when Ryan narrows his eyes just a sliver, she switches to shaking her head. "Taking the rest of the day. I just…"

It was Ryan's turn to shake his head. "Go. I gotcha."

"Thanks. I'll owe you," she says, starting back toward one of the marked cruisers on the side of the street for a ride to Bryant Park.

She calls her dad as she drives to his apartment on the Upper West Side, tells him that she wants to spend the day with him. He lets her in with a soft smile and a long hug.

"You okay today, Katie?" Jim asks, putting a kettle on the stove for tea, watching her take out the tea bags and mugs, digging into his box of teas for the decaf in the back.

"No," she says. She knows better, from years of experience, than to lie to her father. The man's practically a walking polygraph. "Bad morning."

"Should be close to the end of this phase."

She curls up on the couch, waiting as he boils the water and adds it to their mugs. She can hear him mixing in the sugar and milk for hers, honey into his before bringing the mugs over. "What do you want to do?" he questions, stirring his tea idly as he regards her.

"Watch TV?" she ventures, reaching for the remote. "You pick."

Jim switches on the Food Network in time to catch the start of Iron Chef America. Giving his daughter a tug, he snuggles her against his side. "That Bobby Flay is certainly something to look at," he chuckles.

"Think he's taken," Kate returns, letting her head rest against her dad's shoulder.

"Drat." Jim takes a sip of his tea. "Can still look, right?"

They spend the day like that, cuddled up on the couch as if she was six years old again and putting up with the stomach flu. The shows switched, changing from Iron Chef to Cupcake Wars, but the Becketts stayed the same.

"Dad?" Kate starts, turning her head a little to see his cheek. "Went to the doctor today."

He hums, letting her carry the conversation.

"I heard baby." She pauses, blinks back unexpected tears. "Baby's there."

"Of course baby is," he says, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Love you both. You and baby."

Kate pushes closer against her dad's side and he wraps his arm around her shoulder in a one-armed hug. "I'm so scared."

"It'll get better. Easier."

She huffs out a breath. "If you say so."

"I do. And I'm always right." That earns him an eye-roll to which he says, "Hey. Parents are always right. You can hold that over baby's head once we meet it officially. Got a due date yet?"

"Soon?" she says hopefully.

"So, no. Don't worry, Katie," Jim murmurs, kissing her temple. "It'll fly by."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Dark and Deep**_

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><p><em><strong>Week 13<strong>_

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><p>She stretches out in bed, one hand keeping the blankets up around her chin. The alarm is still going off next to her head but she's too tired and too lazy to reach out and hit the snooze. So it beeps and beeps and beeps as Kate works out the kinks from the night of sleep.<p>

Real sleep. The second, maybe third, night of sleep she has gotten in the past two and a half months. The morning sickness left which gave her more time to lounge in bed before dragging herself up for the day. Thank goodness.

Still the alarm meant she needed to get up and soon. She was already setting it as late as possible, trying to give her body the rest it needed. So she rolls over and fumbles for the little switch on the side of the clock until the beeping ceases.

After brushing her teeth, Kate boils water, taking the container of oats from the cabinet and pouring them into a bowl. She frowns as her hand brushes the coffee machine, tucked back into the corner of the counter. No coffee for a long time yet. She had struggled with those first weeks without the caffeine coursing through her veins. There had been massive headaches, times when her hands just wouldn't stop shaking. Now she was almost okay without it. Almost.

She paces back down the hallway to the bedroom, eating small spoonfuls of the oatmeal. Setting the bowl on her dresser, Kate strips off the nightshirt. Just like she does every morning, she turns to the side, and gazes into the full-length mirror propped against the wall. Except this morning, something is different.

It's subtle, barely a change.

But it's everything.

Kate runs her hand over her stomach, feeling the slight rise just at her belly button. She presses her fingers softly against the bump, enough to confirm that it is real.

"Hey, baby," she whispers, smiling gently down at her stomach. "Gonna behave today?"

There's no response and she wasn't really expecting one. Instead, Kate shimmies out of her leggings, tossing them onto her bed, unmade. She searches her drawers for her favorite pair of grey pants, shaking them out before stepping in to the legs. Except there is a problem.

She can't button them.

"Apparently not," Kate murmurs, throwing the pants into the corner and grabbing out another pair, praying that they're looser.

It takes three different pairs of pants until she finds a pair of dark washed jeans that finally button and zip. It's another five minutes before she can find a shirt that doesn't hug her midsection so tightly that the tiny bump, the barely-there reminder of baby, became something more than what it was.

Still, the flowing olive green is almost over-hiding the baby bump. But she's tired and just wants to get to work. So she picks up her oatmeal, sliding her feet into a pair of ballet flats – God, she misses her heels – and starts back to the kitchen.

Kate drops the empty bowl into the sink, the metal of the spoon clattering against the porcelain, before she swings her jacket on, shoulders her purse, and leaves the apartment. Still missing the warmth of a cup of coffee in her hand.

* * *

><p>There's no break in the case. She's been staring at the white board since she got off the elevator and fighting the urge to hold her hand over her stomach. The boys knew about the baby – she couldn't keep something like that from them, from her captain – but Kate doesn't want to broadcast the fact to every person in the precinct.<p>

"Beckett."

She turns, Expo marker tapping against her chin, and sees Montgomery leaning out of his office. "Huh?"

"Take five." He holds up a hand, halting her protest before she can take the breath to propel the words out. "No arguments, Detective. Five minutes in the break room away from the case."

Kate tosses the marker back into the well at the bottom of the whiteboard, pulling a hand through her hair. "Okay." She heads back to her desk, reaches for the coffee mug, then stops. No coffee. Right. So instead, she walks toward the break room, closing the door behind her. The fridge that she raids has nothing to offer but Tupperware and Styrofoam containers with warnings and names scribbled across them.

No one enters the break room for the five minutes. She's lying down on the couch, putting up with the uncomfortable angle that the armrest provides for her head, and absenting rubbing a hand over her stomach. There's no movement from baby and there shouldn't be; the doctor said another couple of weeks before there's any type of "I'm alive in here!" proclamations.

"Do you mind?"

She looks up, sees Montgomery waiting with his hand on the doorframe. Kate pushes herself up so she's sitting, shaking her head. "No, sir."

He moves into the room, shutting the door. Instead of taking the seat next to her on the couch, he spins around one of the chairs from the short table and sits in front of her. "How you holding up?" he asks quietly.

Kate considers lying and saying she's fine, that she's completely okay with everything. But when she glances up and sees her captain, her friend, watch her with his warm brown eyes, she knows she'll be seen right through. "Some days are better than others," she finally says on a sigh.

"And today?"

"Eh." It's noncommittal and she gives a little shrug to accompany it. When Montgomery frowns the tiniest bit, Kate tries to smile. "At least the morning sickness is gone."

"Well there's a positive," he says with a short laugh. "I remember Evie going through that with ours. Not the most pleasant part of a pregnancy."

Kate lets her head fall against the back of the couch, twisting her hands in her shirt. "Oh yes, because the rest of it is a snap." Montgomery is silent and, for a moment, Kate wonders if she spoke out of line. "I didn't mean it like that, sir. Just…"

"I know, Beckett." He leans his forearms on his knees, moving closer so that he can whisper without people passing by the room overhearing. "I just wanted to let you know that whatever you need, you have it." Montgomery halts her protest by continuing as if she hadn't just opened her mouth. "I'm not saying I'm going to handle you with kid gloves; we both know you'd hate me if I did that. You can handle yourself, but don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it. And that includes extra days off. Take what you need."

She smiles, a small little turn of the corners of her mouth. "Thanks, sir. I appreciate it."

He leaves and Kate relaxes back into the couch, running a hand through her hair. Then, Montgomery reappears in the doorway.

"Sir?"

"There's a murder to solve, Detective. Back to the grindstone."

Kate grins, nodding more to herself than to Montgomery. "Yes, sir."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Dark and Deep**_

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><p><em><strong>Week 20<strong>_

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><p>"This is a mistake," she groans, rolling over as much as she can on the narrow couch. "I'm stupid and this is a mistake."<p>

She's curled up in her father's living room, a ragged blanket that had been in the family since she could remember wrapped around her. Home improvement shows about redoing the bathrooms of a house were playing in the background, the host droning on and on about light fixtures and color palettes and other things Kate really didn't really care about.

"What's a mistake, Katie?" her dad asks from the kitchen, stirring the pot of tomato soup on the stove while flipping over one of the grilled cheese sandwiches.

She has her head buried into one of the throw pillows, hugging it to her face in an attempt to hide from the world. "Baby."

Jim barely hears the word, pausing the stirring of the soup to glance over at his daughter. She had been doing so well lately. Not upbeat exactly, but coping. Then there were days like today where she showed up at his doorstep in tears, barely holding herself together. So he settled her on the couch and promised food.

"Baby's not a mistake, sweetie," he says, transferring the sandwiches from the frying pan to plates, cutting them diagonally like he used to when she was little.

"Feels like it," Kate mutters. "I'm so stupid, Dad."

Jim walks around the couch, sets the plates of sandwiches on the coffee table before going back to ladle out the soup. "That's two lies you've told tonight. Don't make it three." He sits near her knees, sliding her bowl over toward her. "Eat, Katie."

"Don't feel like it." He gives her a look, staring her down until she pushes herself up into a sitting position, crossing her legs under her body. "You're pushy."

"Only because I love you." Jim reaches across the table to pick up the television remote, switching the channel to Jeopardy. "Did the appointment not go well?"

Kate rips a piece of the sandwich off, dipping it into the soup. "No. It went okay."

"Tell me about it," Jim says, watching Kate rather than the contestants on the game show.

She sits back, bringing the bowl of soup with her, balanced on her barely-showing belly; she's surprised that with her thin frame that she's not protruding further at five months. "You want to be surprised or…?"

"You found out?" he asks, grinning a little as he bites into a corner of the sandwich. "Tell me."

Kate smiles, swallowing the little ball of fear still lodged in her throat. "A girl."

"Oh, Katie…" He stretches his arm out, squeezing her knee gently.

"No, Dad. It's wrong."

Jim blinks, tilting his head as he tries to figure out what emotion is playing across her face. "What's wrong?" When she glares, he holds up his free hand. "You're not exactly being specific here."

She slides the bowl back onto the coffee table so she could lean her head against her dad's shoulder. "This isn't right. There's an order to this and I've done it all wrong. I mean, what if I can't take care of her or she gets taken away because I'm never home or I get shot –"

"Katherine."

That shuts her up. That's the Dad Tone that she knows not to mess with.

"You are not stupid or wrong or anything. Yes, you'll make mistakes. But you're smart enough to learn from them. And baby will love you and will not care that you're not a traditional family. Because you'll be her family and that will be all that matters to her. Okay, kid?" he asks, nudging her head off his shoulder just enough to get a glimpse of her face. "Oh, sweetie," he murmurs when he sees the tears gathering in her eyes. "Come here."

He pulls her against his chest, her head in the crook of his neck. "I'm so scared, Dad."

She's terrified. More anxious than she was that first day of the Academy. More frightened than when she watched Royce take a bullet meant for her, sitting by his bedside in the hospital even as he flirted relentlessly with the nurse checking his bruised ribs.

"And that's okay," Jim says, running a hand over his daughter's hair. "You're allowed to be scared out of your mind."

"Good. Cause I am."

Their faces are twin expressions of shock in the next second. Kate pulls back, blinking away tears as she glances down at her stomach. "Was that…?"

"I think baby is telling you that everything will be okay," Jim laughs, tugging on the end of her hair. "Baby knows best."

Kate's not listening. Not really, though it looks like she is. Instead, she's tracing her fingers over her midsection, searching for the kick again. Jim watches as the baby kicks again and Kate's face lights up for a second time.

"There she is again!"

And for that moment, Jim can only think of one thing: God, she sounds like her mother. The second thought is a silent wish that his wife could be here to see this. To see their daughter's eyes go from the dull hazel of grief and confusion and frustration to this bright forest-moss shining down at their unborn granddaughter.

"Trust me now, Katie?" he asks, getting up to nuke their bowls of soup.

"Maybe," Kate responds with a smile. The same smile that stays on her face for the rest of their quiet dinner.

Everything might not be perfect, but for the first time in five months, things were okay.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Dark and Deep**_

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><p><em><strong>Week 31<strong>_

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><p>She's in the middle of an interrogation when the first one hits. It rolls over her stomach like a wave, the pain the dull crash as it hits the shore. But she pushes past the fear, clenches her fist under the metal table, and continues to stare down the woman across from her. The woman she needs to nail for shooting her husband with a hunting rifle at point blank over his sugar on the side.<p>

"I didn't do anything wrong," the woman says meekly, checking her manicure rather than meeting Kate's gaze. "You should be after that homewrecker, Susanna."

"Except we have your prints on the rifle," Kate says, sliding the file over for Fiona to see.

The woman glances down at the ballistics report then shrugs, sitting back in the chair. "So what. It was Harry's gun. I touched it all of the time."

"And did Harry often let you load the gun? Because your prints were also found on the cartridges and that can only happen if you were the one to load the rifle."

Kate has her. The woman is gasping, mouth opening and closing as if she were a fish in shallow water. She gathers up the files, the photos, and taps them into line. "Yeah, that's what I thought." She gets up, opening the door to the room, and nodding to the uniform posted outside. He brushes past her to read Fiona her Miranda rights as Kate meets Ryan when he comes out of the observation room.

"Good job, Beckett," he says as they walk back toward the desks. "Didn't think she'd cave."

"Yeah, well, she sort of cornered herself without knowing it."

Kate has to stop at Esposito's desk as another ripple of pain hits. It's not crippling but damn, it's uncomfortable. She ignores Esposito's glance up from his notes, phone cradled in his ear.

"You okay?" Ryan asks, hand hovering over her shoulder but not venturing to make contact.

"Fine." She straightens, shaking her head a little. "Just… Yeah, I'm fine."

She sits at her desk, rubbing her hand over her stomach. It's her last week of active duty before Montgomery chains her to her desk. Too early for real labor, she thinks, reaching for her mug, now filled with water rather than coffee. Nothing. It's nothing.

But half an hour later, it becomes obvious that someone thought it was something. Lanie gets off the elevator, meeting the boys over in the area right outside of the bathrooms, their heads together in conversation. Kate glances over, eyes narrowing as Esposito sees her watching.

"Uh, Beckett?" Lanie ventures, sitting on the empty brown chair that Kate keeps next to her desk for witnesses. "The boys, they said that you were acting weird."

Kate reaches out and grabs hold of Lanie's wrist as another faux contraction hits. "I'm fine," she grinds out more from discomfort than pain. "They're being mother hens."

"No we're not!" interjects Esposito. He trails off when Lanie glares. "We're not…"

"They sorta have a point, sweetie," Lanie says carefully. "Might want to get you to the hospital." At the shocked look from her friend, Lanie holds her hands up. "Just for a check-up. I trust that you know what's going on but it wouldn't hurt."

Kate looks over at Ryan and Esposito, both of whom are trying to look calm and collected but she can see them twisting their hands. It's sweet, once she pushes past the annoyance over them worrying about her, that they're so concerned. "You both want me to go to the hospital?" she asks, raising a brow at the men.

"I mean," starts Ryan, looking anywhere but at Kate, "if you think you want to…"

"Fine. Just because you two will continue to watch me like hawks if I don't."

Lanie points a finger at Ryan and Esposito when they start to follow the girls toward the elevator. "You two don't need to come. I've got her."

"No one's 'got me,' Lanie," Kate reminds as she gets into the elevator. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Oh, I know that. Just Braxton Hicks contractions so nothing's wrong but if we didn't get you out of there, I guarantee you that Esposito would have called the ambulance to force you to the hospital." Lanie got off at the lobby, waiting for Kate to catch up. "This way, we get to go out for lunch without them staring. Plus walking can help the Braxton Hicks become less uncomfortable."

Lanie was right, of course. They stroll up the sidewalk toward a gourmet salad place on the corner and as they wait in line behind the rest of the 9-to-5'ers looking for lunch, Kate feels the contractions fade off.

"So, how's my little chiquitita?" Lanie asks, stabbing lettuce violently.

Kate pushes around the lettuce and avocado and shredded carrots around with her fork. "Good. But goodness, Lanie, I'm ready to not be pregnant anymore."

"You're almost done though. What do you have left?"

"About ten weeks. Too long." Kate eats the bits of salad that she manages to scoop up on her fork. "Think we can evict the child?"

"Probably not."

Kate lets her head fall into the back of her hand, fork dangling down out of her fingers. "Damn."

Lanie reaches out to brush her hand over Kate's shoulder. "Semi-related to baby, have you picked out names for her other than baby?"

"What if I'm going for a Dirty Dancing reference?"

That has Lanie rolling her eyes. "You? Kate Beckett naming her daughter after Baby? Yeah right." She drags lettuce through a pool of salad dressing in the bottom of her bowl. "She'll spend her entire life looking for her Castle."

"Don't we all, though," Kate says.

"Search for Johnny Castle?" When Kate shrugs, Lanie shakes her head. "Duh. But guys like that don't just wander into your life."

Kate hums. "He might."

"Wow. You're a romantic. Never would have pegged that," Lanie comments, stealing some avocado from Kate's bowl.

"Still not naming her Baby."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Dark and Deep**_

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><p><em><strong>Week 36<strong>_

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><p>Kate drives over to the Upper West Side, parking outside of her dad's building, and unlocking the doors before he makes it to the side of the car.<p>

"Hey, Katie," he calls. "Let me drive."

"Seriously?" But the look he shoots her through the window makes Kate roll her eyes and get out of the car. "Such a worry-wart," she whispers to him as they pass in front of the car.

She lets her dad take the wheel, foot tapping nervously on the floor mat. Not because her dad is one of the incredibly cautious drivers that just do not get anywhere fast in New York City and certainly not because this trip makes everything so real.

"Got a plan of attack?" he asks at a stop light. He switches the radio to the classical station, letting Rimsky-Korsakov fill the Crown Victoria.

Kate pulls a piece of paper from her coat pocket. "Does a list count?" When Jim shrugs, Kate mirrors the motion. "Figured we'd just stop wherever and see what we find."

Jim finds a shop between a burger place and a tiny grocery store and takes one of the parking spots across the street. Kate doesn't move from the passenger seat, eyes focused on her hands twisting in her lap. "Katie?" She looks up, blinking at him as he gets out. "You okay? Really."

"I'm…" she trails off, turning her mother's ring over in her fingers. "I'm okay. Let's go find baby some stuff." She gets out, tucking the ring back into the pocket of her jeans, tugging her jacket closer over the now-obvious baby bump.

"You mean your coffee machine isn't enough?" Jim teases, nudging his daughter with his shoulder as they start down the sidewalk to the crosswalk.

"It is for me," she counters. "But do you really want me telling baby to cuddle up with the coffee machine when she has a nightmare?"

He grins. "Good point."

The shop provides them with a carrier, a few onesies that her dad thought couldn't be left in the store, and pacifiers. Jim insists on carrying them out, stashing the take in the back seat. "What's left?" he asks, turning the key in the ignition.

"Stroller, bottles, crib," Kate reads off her list as she lowers herself into the car.

"Don't need the last one."

"What?"

Jim takes the list from her, reads over the remaining items. "I've got some of these covered."

Kate reaches for the paper, caught between a laugh and an exclamation of annoyance when her father keeps it out of her grasp. "Hey! What'd you mean you've got things covered on that?"

"Your mom and I put some of your stuff into storage. We can drop the rest of it off after we find it then head over to the storage unit and grab the rest." He hands the paper back. "Problem solved."

The idea that her daughter will be sleeping in the same crib as she did hits Kate in the chest and suddenly she feels like she can't catch her breath. It's not enough to replace what has been a void in this experience with Mom missing but it plugs the area up a bit. "Good. That's good," she says, trying to wipe the stray tear off her cheek without her dad catching the moment.

"I mean," he interjects quickly, "if you want. You don't need to use them if you'd rather-"

"No." Kate smiles, swallowing the lump in her throat when the word has trouble getting out. "No. That'd be nice. Keep it in the family, right?"

Jim grins. "Right. So let's look for a stroller and some bottles and whatever else catches our eyes. I think I remember there being a really nice place over on the Lower East Side." He gets onto FDR Drive, zipping down the east side of the island.

Kate picks at the fake leather near the window, digging her short fingernail into the crack already there from years of use within the department. "Dad, can we go visit Mom? After getting everything, I mean." She can feel him looking at her, glancing over as he navigates the busy road. "I want her to meet baby before I'm stuck at the apartment for maternity leave."

"I think she'd like that." He reaches over and rests his hand on top of her knee, giving it a squeeze.

Her dad has a scary ability to remember baby shops from when he and Johanna were looking for things and not an hour later, the back seat of the car is a veritable mess of baby things. Somehow they managed to fit in the box for the jogging stroller in between the carrier and some of the things they picked up at the storage unit on the ride back from the cemetery.

She's exhausted by the time she gets back to the apartment. Her dad helped bring all of the stuff up to the living room, leaving it scattered around the couch and little dining table and in the kitchen for her to figure out. Instead of trying to rearrange her office into the semblance of a nursery, Kate stretches out on the couch, one of her old baby blankets folded up on her chest. It still smells faintly of their old laundry detergent with the hint of coffee and the lingering of Mom's perfume from back when they packed the stuff up.

It still hurts that her mom wouldn't be here for this. It's not like she's away on vacation and won't be back on the early flight to catch the birth of her granddaughter. She's gone. Forever. Just when Kate thinks she has accepted the absence, things like the scent of her own childhood hit her over the head.

Except this time, the combination of coffee and vanilla doesn't trigger the same sadness that it usually does. This time, Kate feels the urge to give her own daughter the same upbringing. Laughter and nights spent on the couch under blankets while watching movies and days in the park. Failed attempts at new dinner creations that taste so bad they just order pizza for the third night in a row and tears over a scraped knee from an overenthusiastic jump from a still-moving swing and letting the girl climb into bed with her after a nightmare.

"I can do this," Kate says, taking a deep breath and nodding to herself. "We can do this."

With that, she swings her legs off the couch and tucks the blanket back in with the others. It takes her an extra second or two to push herself to her feet using the back of the couch to help her up before she can go find her cell phone in her purse. She finds the purse in the baby carrier, digs for her phone, and hits Lanie's speed dial.

"Enjoying the day off, sweetie?" the other woman answers cheerfully. Too cheerfully for someone that was probably wrist-deep in a corpse not a moment earlier.

"Pretty good so far. Listen, you busy tonight?" Kate asks, wandering around the mess in the front rooms of the apartment. When Lanie says she's free, Kate nudges one of the boxes with her toes. "Want to grab Ryan and Esposito to help set up some of the baby's things in the old office?"

"Yes! I'll bring the boys over after shift. It'll be good for them to get used to spending time with pacifiers and burp rags."

A glance at the clock after hanging up with Lanie tells Kate that she has about an hour and a half until their shift ends, so that gives her two hours to get some sort of food cooked to feed the working masses. She turns the stovetop on, fills a pot up with water, and sets it out to boil. There's a box of bowtie pasta that she can mix with sauce and frozen meatballs that she can reward her friends with. As the water bubbles, Kate turns on Pandora on her laptop.

It can only be fate that the first song on the playlist is 'With a Little Help from My Friends.'


	6. Chapter 6

_**Dark and Deep**_

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><p><em><strong>Alexandra<strong>_

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><p>When Kate wakes up from her nap, she finds the room more crowded than it was when she conked out on her dad. Sure, Dad's still there, sitting in the chair next to her bed, but the newborn is no longer in his arms.<p>

"Dad, where's-" she starts, rubbing her eyes as she pushes herself up in the bed.

"Not off to a great start in the mom department, Beckett." Lanie grins, moving from where she was perched on the windowsill to sit at the foot of Kate's bed. She has Al in her arms, the baby fast asleep. "Kidding, sweetie," she adds when Kate glares. "Figured you'd want some company so I wrangled the boys into coming to visit."

Sure enough, over in the corner, Ryan, Esposito, and even Montgomery are playing a game of blackjack. There are cups of coffee on the table next to them along with what appears to be a series of half-eaten sandwiches and a bag of chips.

"No betting around my daughter, got it?" she calls out, pointing a finger at the other cops.

"'Course not," Montgomery replies, quickly folding the bills up from the tabletop and slipping them into his pocket before Ryan or Esposito could notice or comment. "Looking good, Detective."

Kate pushes back her hair, still in a messy braid that the nurse did hours ago. "Oh yeah, ready for my close-up." Then she reaches a hand out to brush it over Al's skull, feeling the soft down of hair on the girl's tiny head. "Hey, kid," she whispers.

"You want her back?" Lanie asks, holding the sleeping body out to Kate. "She's been out for about as long as you have."

She can't stop the trembling of her arms as Lanie transfers Al into them. Is it possible to be more terrified of this sleeping baby than it is to be of drug dealers attempting to murder her? Kate decides it's definitely within the realm of possibilities as she settles Al into the crook of her arm. The baby's head is against her chest and, without waking, Al's fingers wrap around the hospital johnny. "Still sleepy," she sighs.

Jim edges onto the bed, looping an arm over his daughter's shoulders. "That's a baby for you."

"Wasn't talking about Al, Dad," Kate manages, letting her head fall onto his upper arm.

A flash goes off in the room making her blink as dots of light flicker in her vision. As soon as she can see clearly, Kate zones in on Lanie, hands behind her back and looking completely guilty. "Seriously?" Kate says. "Pictures?"

"You'll want them in the future. I'll send them to you once the camera's memory card is full," Lanie replies, wiggling the little digital camera at her friend. When Kate rolls her eyes, Lanie sighs, exacerbated. "You love me and you know it."

"Actually, there's something I've wanted to ask you. All of you," she clarifies when the boys start to leave. "I need godparents for Al. And I was wondering if…" she trails off, hoping they get the rest of the question without her speaking the words.

Lanie responds first. "Yes. Duh." Then she turns her eyes on Ryan, Esposito, and Montgomery in the corner as they tap the cards into a neat pile.

The three men glance between themselves, trying to figure out which one of them Kate is referring to. Kate steps in, shifting her arm as she does so in an attempt to stretch out a kink. "All three of you, if you want. I mean, you don't need to, but…"

Montgomery is the first to say yes and Ryan and Esposito follow closely at his heels.

"Thanks," Kate says, swallowing the tears she can feel creeping into her eyes. "I mean it. Thank you all." Then she yawns, feeling her jaw crack, before a giggle can escape her when Al mirrors the motion. She turns her head into Kate's body with a breathy sigh. "You too, Al."

"Uh, we need to get going," Esposito says, edging toward the door already. "It's getting late." Before he bolts, he gives a final wave. "See you soon, Becketts."

Ryan heads out next, citing a date with someone his sister set him up with. Montgomery escapes at the same time, telling her again to take as much time as she needs, even if it goes beyond the department maternity leave period.

Kate nudges Lanie with her foot. "You taking your camera and leaving too?"

"Only if you want me gone, sweetie," Lanie says. "I've got all night. Not on-call or working tomorrow."

"In that case," interjects Jim, sliding off the bed. "Come get food with me? We'll bring it back up here and have a picnic dinner with Katie."

The room is quiet when they close the door behind them. Kate strokes a finger over Al's cheek and the girl opens her eyes, blinking up in the dim light with bright blue eyes. "Hey, beautiful," Kate murmurs as Al watches. "Love you already, you know." Al blinks, one long close of her eyes before she opens them again. "Does that mean 'yes'?" Kate asks hopefully.

When Al only yawns and tightens her grip on the fabric, Kate smiles. "I'm going to say 'yes.' Because it's just you and me, kid. We're it. We'll have help, but mostly just us. Which is okay because love'll get you a long way, you know. Want to see how far we'll get?" she asks, not expecting an answer.

But she gets one in the form of a tiny nod. Her throat closes up but Kate pushes the words out. "Good. Because we Beckett women do love a challenge."


End file.
